Monday, February 1, 2010

The Other Side.

Your mind is void--
devoid of substance.
You have become
a bridge
crossing the icy crevasse
to fresh grass blades
that watch red ants
play with black dirt
on the other side.

We become dust
minute particles
catching sun
through window panes
glistening up through
rusting sink drains
overflowing with melting snow
and too much rain.

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